


Ignition

by sabrina_il (marina)



Series: Hannibal a/b/o [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Catheters, Fever, Helplessness, Humiliation, Is this non-con?, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Original Flavor A/B/O, it might be, it probably is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9540674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/sabrina_il
Summary: Hannibal is an alpha who never left medicine to become a psychologist. Will is an omega who works for the FBI and hates doctors, until his brain being on fire forces him to be admitted to a hospital.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. PLEASE READ THE TAGS. This is Original Flavor A/B/O, which implies a coercive universe where omegas are considered a lesser class than alphas. 
> 
> 2\. I don't really know what I'm doing, guys, or why this fic exists. It just... sort of happened? It's been languishing in my WIP folder for ages, so, here's an attempt to slowly drag it out into the light.

Hannibal had worked at the Central Baltimore Omega Hospital for five years - had worked as an emergency room surgeon in the United States for a decade before that - and he’d never seen a case as extreme as William Graham’s. 

Hannibal read the referral documents, sent over from Mercy General, while the nurses and paramedics transferred his newest patient from a gurney to a hospital bed. It was clear from Graham’s pallor, the deep, dark circles under his eyes, the occasional tremors in his limbs and the curled up shape of his body that he was going through intense withdrawal. His symptoms seemed particularly intense, but every omega was different. Most patients Hannibal had encountered took heat suppressants for a month or two, maybe a year at most, without supervision. Omegas who were wealthy enough to bribe doctors into procuring their drugs usually didn’t end up in the hospital, whereas the poor could only afford low quality generics and quickly succumbed to blood poisoning, liver failure, and other severe side effects. 

Hannibal ordered the standard battery of blood tests, marked the request as urgent, and went on with his shift, leaving a barely conscious Graham to convalesce in his room. When the results arrived, however, he read them twice before ordering Graham be moved to a private room. 

“This is remarkable,” Hannibal said, looking over the data for a third time, standing over Graham’s new bed. “Mr. Graham, you must have been taking suppressants for… nearly a decade?” Hannibal had never seen anything like it. It was unprecedented in the medical literature. “And the only side effect seems to have been a severe inflammation of the brain. When was your last heat?”

Graham was shivering, despite having pulled the a thin blanket up to his chin. Hannibal waited, but no response was forthcoming. For a moment Hannibal considered making Graham his first omega meal, but the thought was fleeting. It was far more satisfying to keep this mystery alive, at least for now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this fascinated by a patient. 

“There’s no record of a partner registered in Maryland,” Hannibal went on, looking over the paperwork. “We’ve sent a query to Louisiana, but their older files aren’t digitized. A response might take days.” He waited a few more moments for a response before finally looking up. “I need to know sooner rather than later, Mr. Graham.”

Only the faint sound of cars from the window filled the air between them. Graham was sweating, his brown hair plastered to his forehead, curly and soft, his lips pursed tightly, his fingers clutching at the edges of the blanket. He was not too ill to speak, however, Hannibal knew that much. This was willful resistance. 

“I need your cooperation, Will,” Hannibal said, trying for a kinder tone. The way forward was to convince Graham he was different from his previous handlers. According to his file Graham had previously worked for the FBI, and though Hannibal had not yet read the police report, he was certain the FBI hadn’t looked kindly on an employee becoming addicted to illegal drugs. “I need to know the approximate date of your last heat, or I can’t prescribe treatment.” The severity of Graham’s withdrawal as well as his body’s response to medication would depend on how long his cycle had been tampered with. 

Hannibal flipped through the documents again. “You were originally admitted for encephalitis. Those symptoms could come back, or worse.”

Silence again. Will turned around and curled in on himself, facing away from Hannibal. 

“Keeping quiet will not make this any easier for you, I’m afraid. On the contrary.” Hannibal put Graham’s chart back in the designated slot at the foot of his bed. “Between the police and the Department of Omega Welfare, I am the closest thing you may have to an ally.”

More silence. Hannibal was about to call for a nurse to administer an IV, as a start, when Graham began to cough. 

It was like a sudden, violent seizure, his body nearly breaking in half with each cough. Pulmonary distress was not commonly associated with suppressant withdrawal, though Graham’s case was special enough that anything was possible. 

Graham sounded like he was choking, like the air could barely get through to his lungs. Hannibal grabbed his shoulder and pulled, forcing him to lie on his back. Graham took a few more labored, raspy breaths, before the cough subsided. 

Graham’s blanket had slipped to his waist, revealing his skin. Not clammy and pale, as Hannibal had assumed, but rosy with fever, almost inflamed. 

For a moment their eyes met. Hannibal could see the panic, the fear already warring with arousal in Graham’s eyes. He’d been trying to hide this since they’d brought him in. He’d been hoping, somehow, that no one would notice. Even now, Graham shook his head in a small, desperate gesture, as if begging Hannibal to ignore the symptoms. 

Hannibal's hand slid to Graham’s jaw, forcing Graham’s eyes to stay on his. 

“When was your last heat?” Hannibal said. Graham’s breath hitched as Hannibal’s fingers dug into his skin. 

“Never,” Will breathed out through gritted teeth. 

 

*

Hannibal ordered an emergency heat kit. With an ordinary patient - not that many suppressant addicts with no registered mates made it to the hospital - an alpha would be assigned from an emergency database. Hannibal would be exempt, as the treating physician, of course, but plenty of alphas, especially young, unattached ones, were always happy to lend a helping hand. Will would be tied down and knotted and the heat would likely break within twenty-four hours. 

But Will was no ordinary patient. No, he was the gift of a lifetime, and Hannibal had no intention of letting him go.

At Hannibal’s instruction, nurses wheeled in an exam table and a tray with instruments. Graham, weak and disoriented with the onset of heat, was transferred, with barely a struggle, to the padded bench that ended with a detachable pair of stir-ups and bindings to keep Graham still. 

Hannibal lifted Graham’s paper-thin gown to examine his genitals. His penis and testes looked normal, the right shape and size. Hannibal would determine later whether they’d sustained any internal damage from years of illegal suppressants. For the moment he ignored them in favor of Graham’s anal entrance, which was slightly wet to the touch. Graham gave a weak, desperate moan as Hannibal rubbed over the moisture to determine its consistency. 

How Hannibal hadn’t smelled this - didn’t smell it, still - was beyond explanation. Hannibal’s alpha senses were on the acute end of the spectrum, for Will’s condition to elude him, Will’s body had to be undergoing serious side effects from the suppressants, still. 

Which only further necessitated the exam. 

Hannibal glanced at the array of inflatable knots. “Number 3, please,” he said, and the nurse sterilized it before passing it to Hannibal. The shaft was about two fingers thick and about as long - much smaller than the average adult alpha. Hannibal pushed it slowly into Graham’s entrance, and Graham let out a faint grunt. His body clearly welcomed the intrusion, attempting to move into Hannibal’s touch, thighs trying to part wider despite the stir-ups. 

Hannibal squeezed the hand pump, making the knot at the base of the dildo expand, and Will chocked on a proper groan, as if startled into pleasure. Hannibal kept squeezing the pump, giving Will’s body time to adjust between each expansion. When the knot had grown to half its maximum size Graham’s body began to tense. Hannibal could see Graham’s toes curling, the muscles of his thighs under strain.

“Does it hurt, Will?” Hannibal said, giving the knot another pump. 

Graham didn’t respond, though Hannibal could hear a change in his breathing. He was conscious enough to object, by now, surely. Which meant Graham was expecting this to go on no matter what. 

Hannibal slid the hand not holding the plastic knot to check Graham’s abdomen. His cock was half-erect, which was not unexpected, but beyond that his stomach muscles were clenched, hard and tense, his body clearly struggling. Hannibal slid his hand back down, to Graham’s perineum. 

He gave the knot another pump and Graham grunted, in obvious discomfort. Hannibal massaged his perineum, looking for the bulge of his prostate, normally right near the surface with post-adolescent omegas, but even more pronounced during heat. It took a few moments of prodding before Graham felt the effects, his body spasming, as if electrocuted. He began to whimper, while obviously trying to clamp down on the sound, hips trying to move on the table. Still, Hannibal could barely feel the protrusion of the gland. Graham’s physiology was fascinating - Hannibal had to find out whether the abnormalities were caused by the suppressants or were the reason the suppressants had worked for so long. 

He pulled the dildo out, slowly, and placed it back on the tray, covered in Will’s secretions. “Thank you. Back on the bed, please,” he said.

As the nurses complied Will finally stirred, straining to rise on his elbows. “What?” he mumbled.

“It’s all right,” Hannibal said. “Try to rest for now.”

Will struggled as the nurses placed him back on the bed. “What are you doing?”

Hannibal rose from the stool and Will grew even more agitated, shoving hard against the hands trying to make him lie down. One of the nurses shot Hannibal a questioning look, but Hannibal nodded, confirming his orders.

“What is this? What’s happening?” Graham demanded. 

“They’ll restrain you for now, Will,” Hannibal said, as the nurse fetched the leather straps. “To help you calm down.”

“Fuck you!” Will shouted as Hannibal left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re insane,” Chilton said, strutting into Hannibal’s office with his usual flair. “You can’t keep an omega who’s just been through encephalitis and lengthy withdrawal alive through an entire heat. It can’t be done.”

“Thank you for your input Frederick, it’s duly noted,” Hannibal said, without looking up from his paperwork. 

“This will end in a negligence suit, Hannibal, surely even you can see that. If you go through with this I’ll be forced to write an official letter to the board.”

Hannibal had expected Chilton to come up with some way to take over Graham’s case, but he hadn’t expected this particular route. 

“And who would file this suit, in your imaginary scenario?” Surely Chilton had seen the medical file - Graham had no living relatives or previous registered partners. Which was a mystery Hannibal was very much looking forward to untangling. 

The mere fact that Graham was going into heat now, so soon after losing access to his suppressants, was significant. It implied his system would recover fully, in record time. Hannibal’s attempts to coax more information about Graham’s early life from the system as well as from Graham himself had so far been fruitless, but there would be time for satisfying his curiosity. If everything went as planned, he’d have all the time in the world. 

“The FBI!” Chilton sputtered. “They’ve just lost one of their best profilers, and however long he was lying about his omega status, they won’t be happy to hear he died because there was a shortage of knots at a goddamn omega hospital!”

If Hannibal believed in a higher power, he’d think himself blessed for being on call when William Graham was admitted. Of course Graham had managed to fool every alpha he’d ever encountered, up to and including top officials within the FBI. His file indicated Graham had always been considered odd, not quite suitable for field duty, but sufficiently functional to receive a teaching post and consult, occasionally. 

It was like he was a gift, waiting only for Hannibal.

“Rest assured, Frederick,” Hannibal said, unable to suppress a smile as he got back to his papers. “I have no intention of letting him die under my care.”

*

Hannibal returned to check on Graham a few hours later, shortly before the end of his shift. The restraints held him in place, though Graham was no longer struggling. The heat had progressed, making him barely lucid. His lips moved, forming words, but no sound emerged. His eyes remained closed until Hannibal stepped closer to the bed. 

“You,” Graham said, after a minute of struggling with his tongue. “There’s… there are easier ways,” he swallowed, “to kill me. Why?”

Hannibal tried not to bristle at the repeated lack of faith in his medical prowess. He retrieved Graham’s chart and went over the procedures the nurses had recorded. Graham’s temperature had been recorded every twenty minutes, as was standard in cases of severe heat distress, and the amount of anal lubricant his body produced had been measured, as Hannibal had instructed, every half hour. It hadn’t changed since Hannibal tried the #3 knot, despite the fact that the heat was now in full effect. 

“Do you know what would happen if I allowed someone to knot you?” Hannibal said, still looking over the data. 

“This would be over,” Graham said, voice still shaky. 

“Possibly,” Hannibal said. “Your body is still not emitting any pheromones, so we don’t know what effect the knot would have. You would, however, definitely sustain major internal injuries.”

“That’s it?” Graham snorted. “I’ll sign a waiver.”

Hannibal couldn’t help the curve of his lips. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. You no longer hold legal autonomy,” he said. 

He watched the information wash over Graham. His face lost the spark of levity. Surely he’d been informed of his status when originally admitted to the hospital, but he’d managed to forget the full implications. An adult omega who’d broken the law, with no registered partner and no family, he was now a ward of the state.

Graham closed his eyes, long lashes sweeping over delicate cheekbones, and kept silent. 

“I am doing this for your own good, Will,” Hannibal said. 

Graham shook his head bitterly, and for a moment Hannibal thought he’d go back to his earlier sullen, uncooperative mood, but then he spoke. “I’m a fun experiment, I get that. But letting me die won’t look good when you publish your paper.”

In fact, Graham’s death would likely have no effect on Hannibal’s ability to publish articles about him in the finest medical journals - or likely even a book contract. But there was no reason to argue about it now. Hannibal watched as Graham tried to lick his lips and instead succumbed to a coughing fit as his throat tried to close up. Long sentences were too much for him in this state. 

“I’ve ordered an IV for the night,” Hannibal said. “You’re severely dehydrated. Try to sleep, Will.”

Graham offered nothing but silence in return.

* 

Chilton found Hannibal in the hospital cafeteria the next day. Hannibal always brought his own food, of course, but perpetually eating alone in his office would send the wrong message. He liked being seen eating with other doctors and nurses, letting them marvel at his culinary skills.

Today, however, he was eating late, due to the necessity of keeping a close eye on Will. 

“Have you considered what you’re doing to his urinary tract?” Chilton said, sitting down next to Hannibal, uninvited.

“I have,” Hannibal said. “But I prefer not to talk about work during lunch, Frederick.” Chilton already knew this, of course.

“A heat-induced erection doesn’t allow for urination,” Chilton informed him, as if Hannibal had slept through his second year of med school. “So if you’re not knotting him but you’re giving him enough fluids so he doesn’t sweat himself to death, you’re going to rupture his bladder.”

“Thanks for your kind concern,” Hannibal said, twisting pasta around his fork. “I have considered the issue.”

“And?” 

Hannibal tried not to sigh. Chilton was useful - his loudness drew attention away from Hannibal - but maintaining their relationship was sometimes the most tedious part of his day. “I’ll use a catheter to drain the bladder, obviously.” Before Chilton could open his mouth to offer some other ludicrous protestation Hannibal added “You can watch, if you like. I know how invested you are in the patient’s welfare.”

Hannibal had intended to supervise the catheterization personally anyway. Graham looked worse that morning, weak and barely coherent. His chart said he’d spent half the night screaming for someone to knot him, until he’d lost his voice. 

Nevertheless, he struggled when the nurses changed the position of his hip restraints to allow easier access to his genitals. 

“It’s only a catheter, Will,” Hannibal said, as Graham frantically eyed the tray of instruments. “It’ll hurt a bit going in, but then it’ll come out. I promise it’s better than the alternative.”

Graham didn’t dignify him with so much as a glance. His attention was focused on the people helping to keep him still. When they started to push the needle into his urethra he screamed, voice broken and hoarse. His eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth gritted, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. The nurses kept him from thrashing until the plastic bag started filling up with his urine. 

Chilton observed the procedure with scrutiny. “How many times do you think you’ll get away with this before he gets a UTI? You can’t administer antibiotics when he’s like this.”

Hannibal had a precise schedule worked out already, as well as a strategy to minimize the risk of infection, but Chilton wasn’t really asking about that. “I’ll be sure to seek your council if anything goes wrong, Frederick,” he said. 

*

The fever became a real problem on the fourth day of Graham’s heat. There was a limited array of drugs Hannibal could administer - Graham’s files from Louisiana were still missing and the chances of something going wrong when his body was this weakened were too great. Despite the IV, despite the lowered room temperature, despite the restraints that prevented him from moving around, Will’s body rebelled at being kept in a state of heat for so long and his temperature rose to 120. 

It was too late to rely on an emergency intervention, Will’s brain would be fried before they got him on the operating table, considering his previous history of inflammation. There wasn’t even time to put him on a gurney. When the nurses came to fetch Hannibal he knew there was only one option. He helped untie Will’s restraints and then carried him, through two hallways and an elevator, outside into the Baltimore winter. He put Graham, wrapped in a sweat-soaked hospital gown, down in the snow outside the ambulance entrance, watching his eyelids flutter, his body slowly succumbing to the freezing temperature. He crouched beside him until the thermometer read 100.8 and then sat back, relieved, as the nurses put Graham’s body into a wheelchair and took him back inside. 

The last time he’d done anything like this he’d been working in Paris, fresh out of medical school. The experience winded him more than he expected. He staggered back into the hospital, checked that Graham was unconscious but no longer in danger, and spent the rest of his shift in his office. 

Nature was determined to test him, but Hannibal had no intention of backing down. He’d have Graham under his authority when this was all over, his to explore and tinker with. The professional accolades he would receive were secondary to the idea of having Graham all to himself, intact and undamaged. Like delicate china, rushing the process would only spoil the end product.

 

*

Graham’s heat broke on the sixth day. Someone from the FBI had been apparently anxious to see him, and bullied the staff into allowing visiting Graham outside of visiting hours, as soon as he was conscious enough to speak. By the time Hannibal got to the hospital the mysterious visitor was gone. He made a mental note to check the records later to try and find out the man’s name. 

Will was staring up at the gloomy sky outside his window when Hannibal came in to examine him. Instead of the redness and sweat of the last week he looked wrung out, thinner and more tired than when he’d been admitted. His skin looked fragile, and Hannibal let himself imagine carving into it, opening those delicate veins and tasting Graham’s insides. 

“You survived,” Hannibal said, allowing himself a small smile. This was his accomplishment, after all. 

Although Will was no longer restrained, no part of him betrayed that he was aware of Hannibal’s presence. 

“Your minor injuries are healing well,” Hannibal said. “Your body will require rest to recover, but there’s been no lasting damage.”

Will opened his mouth but then hesitated, his lips parted, eyes still on the window. “I’m supposed to thank you,” he said, finally. “That seems to be the consensus.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. 

“When will I be released?” Will said. 

“You’ll be discharged in a few days,” Hannibal said. “The hospital is still waiting for word on whose custody you’ll be released to. I take it the FBI has offered to make an arrangement for you?” Graham’s true place was in prison, of course, or perhaps in a mental hospital, depending on the quality of his lawyer, but the FBI seemed to be keen on ignoring the rules. 

Will shook his head. “If I… If I find a sponsor, they said maybe. Maybe eventually they could use me again.”

A sponsor? “You mean, if you were partnered?”

Will smiled, and Hannibal thought of jagged rocks covered by a pool of shallow, still water. “Yes. If I plead guilty, if the DA agrees to probation, if I agree to have an alpha as my legal guardian, then maybe… maybe they’ll let me work again, sometime this century.”

Hannibal considered the words. The FBI must be very desperate for good profilers. Or Will must be considered that unusual. Hannibal could easily believe the latter. “I wish you luck, in that case,” he said. 

“Thanks,” Will said, his eyes meeting Hannibal’s for the first time. “For everything. I think.”

“I was simply doing my work, Will,” Hannibal said, moving closer. “Any doctor would do the same.”

Graham nodded, clearly unsure of what to say. 

They both knew Hannibal’s approach had been unorthodox, but Graham was likely confused as to Hannibal’s motives. Time would force that confusion to dissipate. Graham had to make a decision quickly, if he wanted the paperwork to go through, before he was transferred to a prison to await further developments. 

Hannibal was going to make sure Graham would pick the right alpha as his guardian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on chapter 1! I wasn't sure if anyone would be into reading this thing, and the response made me finish the second half quicker than I'd planned to.


End file.
